i like you first, second and third
by comebackdean
Summary: he wasn't supposed to like her at all; she was bows and hugs and friendship, a my little pony in a human body, and he wasn't any of those things, but god help him he did like her, probably too much [seth rollins/bayley, slow burn]
1. Chapter 1

_a/n: this has been brewing in my head ever since seth tweeted about watching sasha and bayley's incredible match at nxt takeover way back in the summer, tbh. i just about died when he said he wanted bayley to be called up to the main roster after someone asked him who he wanted to be called up next. it stalled out several times, but i really wanted to write it, so here we are. /originally this was supposed to be a one shot, but i got carried away, and i had to break it into two parts. it would have been more than 10,000 words if i didn't. the second part is rated m for a reason, so you've been warned._

* * *

 **~*~i like you first, second and third~*~**

 **pairing: seth rollins/bayley**

 **summary: he wasn't supposed to like her at all; she was bows and hugs and friendship, a my little pony in a human body, and he wasn't any of those things, but god help him he did like her, probably too much**

 **rating: t**

* * *

 **~*~part one of two~*~**

At the beginning of this event if you had asked Seth who he would be congratulating as the NXT Women's Champion, he would have told you Sasha. She had _everything_ it took to be champion. Not just the in-ring ability to compete at the highest level, but he personality to go with it; brash, unapologetic, willing to do anything for the gold, unafraid to step on the toes of so-called 'friends.' Not unlike himself, he realized, smirking as 'The Boss' made her way to the ring.

In the end, it wasn't Sasha who he was waiting for backstage. It was Bayley.

Though, he knew the brunette could _wrestle_ , her personality left much to be desired. She was the opposite of Sasha. She _cared_ what people thought about her. She was the type who would apologize if _you_ bumped into _her_. She had the work ethic, sure, but she did not have the guts to take what she wanted, everyone else be damned. She believed you could be champion and have friends.

At the same time, she was nothing like he expected. When he thought she wouldn't be able to get off the mat and fight back, she did. Underneath the flowery exterior of an excited fangirl, was a toughness that almost seemed foreign when compared to her personality. She was gritty and did not give in, expending every ounce of her energy and strength, but she continued to fight. It was almost, a rueful smile coming to his lips, Dean-like in that way, like she wasn't smart enough to know she was supposed to falter and Sasha was supposed to retain.

But that's not what happened. Sasha did not retain and, she was the one standing tall, as the newly crowned champion.

Before he approached her, he adjusted his own championship belt and fixed his hat. He chuckled, low, at the child-like wonder on her face as she stared at the belt in her arms. Her whole body was shaking, clearly in disbelief. Her mascara was streaking from tears and when he was right beside her he heard, as she pressed the title to her cheek, "Pinch me."

Reaching, he did just that; tugging on the skin just above her elbow.

"Ow!" She yelped, jumping and whirling all in one motion, once perfectly swept high ponytail, flopping. "Who did..." Every other word died in her throat. Doe eyes went wide as realization took over. "Oh. Em. Gee!" A high-pitched squeal only dogs could hear escaped. "S-Seth R-Rollins j-just p-p-pinched m-mme!" She sputtered.

"You did ask for it, toots." Smooth and cocky as ever.

"Y-you h-heard m-mme?!" Still sputtering and on anyone else _this_ would have tried his patience, but it was almost like he was rooted in this spot, unable to move even if he wanted to. "H-how l-long have you been ss-tanding there? Wait..." Shaking her head as brows furrow down, making her look like a confused puppy. "Why are you standing there?"

"From one Champion to another, congratulations."

"Y-you're conn-gratulating me?! Seriously?! Schweet!" Another high-pitched squeal only dogs could hear and he worried if she let out another, he'd be deaf. "Um...Wow... So, like, you're _amazing_ , and I know I'm not supposed to be all star struck and stuff and you must get this all the time, but..." A blush coming to the tan of her skin and peering shyly behind long lashes. "Could we, like, take a picture? Not for like the company and stuff, but um... It's just I'm _a huge fan_. Ever since your indie days and you don't have to. You're probably like super busy and stuff, and Summerslam is tomorrow, but..."

"Sure," Seth cut her off, reaching into the pocket of his blazer for his phone. "Really?!" He didn't think it was possible for her doe eyes to be any bigger, and he told himself as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, that he was only doing this so she would shut up.

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Right in his ear as she launched herself at him and thankfully he was able to catch her before they both came tumbling down.

And then she pressed her lips to his cheek, pulling away with a loud smacking sound before taking off in the other direction, leaving him stunned.

* * *

"Wow..." A breathless murmur, in awe, and then "Oooomf!"

The next thing Seth knew he was looking up at the ceiling and his body was weighed down by something... No, not something – _flowers_ – the feminine scent tickled his nose, and he looked down; a crown of shining brown hair was in his field of vision. The brown head raised itself and there were doe eyes staring back at him as tan cheeks flushed before the eyes quickly looked away and then the body attached to the brown head began scrambling to get to their feet.

A flash of sunny yellow lace caught his eye, disappearing underneath the black of a skirt, and _holy fuck_... He swallowed, thickly, realizing he just saw Bayley's _panties_. Shaking his head, he was about to push himself off the floor when a femininely curved hand – nails decorated with little bows, of course – reached out. His entire hand engulfed hers, nearly taking her wrist in, as well, but she lifted him to his feet with ease.

"I am so, so, so _sorry_." She apologized, hanging her head. "I know, I know I should be more careful... Carmella's always telling me so, but it's just, like... _Whoa_ ; I'm backstage... at Summerslam! I didn't mean," A mirthful chuckle, lips curling slightly. "To run you over like that."

The flash of sunny yellow lace was back and all he could see was the length of her legs. Smooth and tan. They went for miles, it seemed, before the seam of her thighs – no doubt toned – became hidden by the flow of the black skirt. Not skin tight and barely there like every other girl backstage. Taking a brief glance down, because how could he not, the caps of her knees were hardly visible and yet, somehow, he almost swallowed his tongue.

 _What the fuck?!_

"No harm, no foul." Gruff and distant as he brushed invisible dirt off his new white gear.

The silence seemed to stretch for hours before she finally broke it, awkwardly giggling, her cheeks now the color of a fire engine and his stomach felt _funny_ , like, it was twisting itself into knots. "So... um, not that you need it, but..." So soft he barely heard it. "Good luck."

Shaking off the feeling in his stomach, he slipped easily into his cocky facade. "You're right about that, toots, I don't need luck. Cena will be lucky if he doesn't walk out of here on a stretcher. What Brock Lesnar did to him last year is going to look like _nothing_ when I'm done with him. Take a good long look because the next time you see me, I'll be holding his United States Championship on one shoulder and my WWE World Heavyweight Championship on the other."

* * *

The match didn't go exactly the way Seth had planned. Stewart showing up out of nowhere to hit Cena in the back with a chair was unexpected, but all that mattered was he set out to do what he said he would; become the first wrestler _ever_ to hold both The United States Championship and the WWE World Heavyweight Championship.

He didn't expect anyone to be waiting for him backstage. With Jamie and Joey still recuperating after everything that happened before Battleground with Lesnar, there wasn't anyone on the roster – excluding Hunter and Stephanie – who would congratulate him on his historic win.

And he supposed he should care that there wasn't anyone waiting for him, but if things like that mattered – having someone waiting for him – he wouldn't have been able to end The Shield. Briefly, his mind flashed back – bottomless chocolate eyes, sparkling like amber gems, pert cherry lips blooming into a blinding smile – but quickly, he pushed those memories aside.

Fingers sifting through his hair, he blew out a heavy breath and then there was a soft voice in his ear, "Even without that assist from Jon Stewart, I still think you would've won."

 _Flowers_ sifted through his brain and the scent tickled his nose. Turning, he almost expected the lovingly sculpted angles of another brunette's face to be staring back at him, and to be honest, he breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't _her_. Though, he doubted _she'd_ be saying things like that to him. She could barely look at him, even now, a year later.

Instead of Brie, there was Bayley; the apples of her softly molded cheeks stretched from the smile on her lips, not blinding, but penetrating nonetheless.

"It was a great match, not that you don't already know that. I just thought... Um... I, dunno," Not the fire engine flush from earlier, but a soft pink, highlighting the tan of her skin, the way makeup did for most women. "From... Um..." Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, flowing skirt swirling around the calves of her legs. "One Champion to another," A breathless giggle as a ringlet of brown hair gets tucked behind her ear. "Congratulations..." A pause and then an excited sounding, "Double Champ."

She's gone with a small little wave, not giving him a chance to respond, and all he can do is stare at her retreating form; the sunny yellow of her spaghetti strap top is nice against the tan of her skin is the only thought running through his mind.

* * *

" _i would like to see nxt women's champ [bayley]. she is my favorite who is not up here and being used. so hopefully she gets a chance soon."_

The answer was out of his mouth before he even realized what he said. Interviews, after a while, all started to blend together; a mix of the same questions, just worded differently. It was hard to vary your responses after hearing the same variation of "who should be called up next?" twenty or thirty times.

For a brief moment, he almost thought he said Balor`, which may have been the answer he _intended_ to give, but instead he said Bayley. That was the more truthful answer of the two, if he were being honest. Somehow, she had found her way under his skin. With her colorful gear and her ribbons and hair bows. That soft but megawatt smile. Her grit and determination, but her undeniable love for the sport coming off her in waves.

He even liked the little fan that was front row at Full Sail every night to see her. Bizzy... No, he shook his head... _Izzy_ , that's what her name was; Izzy. He even liked her, too; mimicking the brunette's every move to perfection. Her own ribbons hanging from her arms and snap bracelets wrapped around tiny wrists. Her side ponytail bobbing and brightly colored headband fastened tight.

A heavy breath escaped the Iowan as he rolled over to get up from his bed. Pushing his fingers through his hair, he tied the once two-toned locks into a messy bun and just as he was about to pull on a pair of sneakers – he felt the sudden urge to run – his phone chimed, alerting a once sleeping Kevin who was suddenly barking and running around the room, as if he was looking for the sound. He shook his head at the tiny dog and reached out to the bedside table, grabbing the device.

For a brief second he thought it might be Zahara. She was famous [infamous, more like it] for late night calls and/or texts. He bit down on his lip, debating whether he should even bother to look. If he ignored the chimes, she'd eventually give up. Or she would just leave him with another photo to delete.

 _Something_ , however, told him to look and when he did, his brows furrowed in confusion.

 _thanks_ and then a heart eyes emoji.

Quickly his phone chimed again and from the same number came another text. _i mean, um, thank you for what you said about me to peter rosenberg on hot 97 this morning. my phone's been blowing up about it. that was really nice of you._

Bayley? How did she even get his number? Before he could text anything, another reply came; _sorry, i should've probably told you it was me. and by me, i mean bayley. don't be, like, mad or anything, but i got your # from paige. i know you guys don't hang out anymore since the whole... thing... and cause she's with dean, but she never deleted it and i asked... well, not really asked, i demanded, sort of, that she give it to me, so... um, thanks. sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite._

Huh?

Again, his fingers are too slow and quickly there's another text already showing up on the screen of his phone.

 _can we, please, just forget that i texted you sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite? like, pretty, pretty please? it's soooooooooooo embarrassing that i just did that, and i would really like to forget that i just did. i mean you're, like, seth rollins y'know? who texts that to seth rollins?! besides me... anyways, i'm rambling and just, um.. y'know good night._

It's almost as if she's in front of him right now, he can picture her so clearly in his mind's eye. Curled up in her bed down in Orlando. Her hair's pulled messily atop her head. Her face is scrubbed clean, maybe a little shiny after having just been washed. She's wearing actual pajamas – flannel, even down there were it barely gets below 60 at night – and they probably have cupcakes or ponies, maybe even spaceships decorating them. On her feet are horribly bright fuzzy socks.

Kevin is pawing at him, drawing his eyes away from his phone, and he thinks about her little dog; Flex, he's probably curled up with her, the feminine curve of her hand gliding along his fur before she grabs him and snuggles him, tight, against her face, whispering 'good night' and setting him back down.

Holy fucking shit... What the hell is going on?! Shaking his head, he grabs Kevin's leash, hooking the clip into the dog's collar and tells him, "C'mon, boy, let's run."

Because maybe if he runs, he won't be thinking about her. Cause he _definitely_ shouldn't be thinking about her.

* * *

Honestly, Seth didn't know what he was doing here; here, being at Full Sail for the latest in the NXT Takeover series. He had bigger things to worry about, like, a Demon. Not that he would ever admit that Kane had him shaken. But after almost being dragged to hell, who wouldn't be looking over there shoulder? However, at Hell in a Cell, Kane would get a taste of his own medicine. Not only that but he would be fired as Director of Operations, losing what little power Hunter and Stephanie still found him worthy of holding.

And maybe he should've been more focused on the up-coming clash at Hell in a Cell, but he found himself here, and deep down he knew why.

"Ya got this, Bay." A thick New York accent pierced his thoughts, and turning to his left he found her standing about three feet away. Carmella aka The Princess of Staten Island and her best friend was rubbing her shoulders and pumping her up. "Ya gonna show up and show out tonight, gurl. Ain't nobody comin' into your house and takin' that belt. Not no Boss, not nobody. Tonight ya gonna show the world what ya made of. Ya got this, ya hear?"

"I hear." Soft as she giggles, pushing her best friend away, playfully.

"I can't wait to get out there with ya, gurl. Gonna raise ya hand and everyone will see what we already know; ya for real."

"Thanks, Mella."

He makes his move after the Staten Island Princess takes her leave, bounding toward her boys Cass and Enzo.

"I'm just returning the favor, Champ," He doesn't realize how close he actually is until the scent of _flowers_ tickles his nose. It takes _everything_ not to breathe her in. Her scent – sweet but not overpowering, not like the heavy perfume wafting from the Diva's locker room – is so tempting, it's a wonder he hasn't buried his nose against the curve of her neck. "And wishing you luck this time around."

Her breath quickens while her throat bobs unsteadily and he sees the goosebumps rise on her flesh. Briefly, he wonders if anyone – _any man_ – has ever been this close to her, has ever been able to do _this_ ; make her unsteady, make goosebumps take over her skin. He wants to be the only one, but if there was another, he knows he can do so much _more_ to her than this, and he'll be the first to make her feel this way, that's for damn sure.

"Oh..." Breathless, bottom lip trembling just so, and he smirks. "You don't think Izzy will mind if I steal her front row seat tonight, do you?" Just to see what happens, he leans in closer as he speaks and drags a finger from her bare shoulder to her wrist, feeling the goosebumps for himself, but what's branded against the flesh of his finger is _actually_ the softness of her skin; so smooth, it's unreal, and not the raised bumps.

"I don't... Um... Huh?" Blinking doe eyes are glazed over and unfocused and he chuckles, low, in his throat.

"Kill it, Martinez. Show Banks what you're really all about. Maybe," He tilts her chin upwards. "Even break out a little Davina Rose tonight, huh?"

He's gone before she can say anything, unaware, that hazel eyes had been trained on him from the moment he approached, watching his every move like a hawk. Slim arms folded under full breasts and glossy lips twisted into a concern frown. Perfectly manicured brows burrowed down as the mind underneath shimmering blonde hair spun with the possibilities of what he, of all people, could want with her best friend. Her sweet, caring, beautiful best friend who was nothing like him.

The match is every bit the match they put on in Brooklyn, but it's also _more_ , somehow. There she is, standing tall, championship belt slung over her shoulder. Hunter raises her hand in victory and presents her with a large bouquet of flowers. She's shaking in the hulking man's arm, face buried against his neck and he's engulfing her, flowers forgotten on mat, for a moment.

 **"AND STILL YOUR NXT WOMEN'S CHAMPION, BAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYLEEEEEEEEEEEY!"**

* * *

"Wow..." Breathless and in awe as Bayley's dark eyes take in everything that is Monday Night RAW.

"Don't go getting stars in ya eyes." Carmella teases, jabbing her elbow into Bayley's midsection. "Ya the biggest deal goin'. Your name's the one on everybody's lips."

"Yeah..." Bayley murmured, cheeks heating up. Even though, everyone in the media – from Rolling Stone to Pro Wrestling Illustrated to ESPN's Cheap Heat podcast – and everyone backstage (at NXT and on the main roster) was saying she and Sasha put on the match of the year, it was still difficult for the brunette to wrap her mind around, that she was still champion and that she had retained in the first ever Iron Woman match in WWE History.

"Look who's here..." Raspy and low, a shiver unfurling along her spine, and her cheeks are hot for an entirely different reason. She'd know _that voice_ anywhere. Her stomach twists and drops and falls like she's on a roller coaster all at once. She almost wants to grab Mella's hand to steady herself. He has her so off balance and he's not even close enough for her to smell that tantalizing scent; sandalwood and leather.

"Hi..." Shaky and so soft, she wonders how he could hear her, if he even did.

"Aren't you just the toast of the wrestling world?" Bayley swallows thickly as he advances, those bottomless cocoa eyes, piercing her. It's like they could see right through her, as if she was stripped of everything and was standing naked in front of him. Goosebumps rose on her skin from the salacious thought, of _actually_ being bared for him, and she's sure her whole face is as red as a tomato.

"And here you are..." A throaty chuckle from somewhere deep in that toned chest of his. "Gracing us little people at Monday Night Raw with your presence. Just what did we do to deserve such an honor?"

"Toast of the wrestling world? Yeah, I dunno about that," Shy and just barely above a whisper. "All I did was go out there and leave everything on the line. I didn't do anything special, anything different than anyone else would have done. And what little people? You guys... You... _This_..." She spreads her arms and spins around. "Is the big deal. Like, _whoa_ , I'm at Monday Night Raw. It's crazy. Even if I'm just here to do a title swap thing with Charlotte for the website."

"So humble..." A disapproving click of his tongue and a shake of his head. "You should change that. Don't be afraid to own your accomplishments, to admit that you did things in that ring that no one else in that Diva's locker room down at NXT could do. You're the NXT Women's Champion for a reason. You have talent to burn and a work ethic that doesn't compare. Own it. Brag. It won't hurt if you do. Besides," Tempting lips curling into the signature smirk, she should hate, but turns her legs to jelly. "I believe a very handsomely talented someone once said, it ain't arrogance if you can back it up."

"Bragging isn't really..." Before she can say anything more, Carmella's grabbing her hand and practically dragging her away saying, "Don't listen to Pepe Le Pew. Bein' humble ain't nothin' to be ashamed of. Stay humble and you'll keep that championship around your waist."

Even when they've disappeared around the corner, Bayley still feels the weight of his stare, of those beautiful bottomless cocoa eyes. How she was standing from being that close to him – even if it was just for less than two minutes – she didn't know, but her blood was simmering hot inside her veins and there was a haze of lust clouding her brain; two things she'd _never_ felt before.

* * *

 **What the fuck is wrong with you, Rollins?! Bayley Martinez?! Really?!**

Pushing his fingers through his hair, he swallows thickly, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes close. He was trying to will her out of his brain, to not be consumed by that blush across the softly molded apples of her cheeks. To not go down the road of imagining the blush tinting every inch of her tan skin. What she would look like – her body tinted rose – underneath him and bare, silken brown hair splayed around her head like a halo. Lips plumped and bruised from his own. Her breasts – pert – the most perfect shape for the heft of his palms, heaving with strained nipples begging for his touch... _Fuck_.

He doesn't know he's thrown the folding chair against the wall until he hears, "Whoa, Pepe Le Pew, what got your leathers in a twist?"

When he whirls around and finds Carmella's curvaceous silhouette lazily leaning against the doorway of his locker room, he realizes how much he misses Jamie and Joey. Though, The Princess of Staten Island, with one charming grin of her pouty lips would have had them melting, and she still would have found her way into his locker room. So maybe he really shouldn't miss them, and one beat of his heart later, her insult _finally_ registers, making him wrinkle his nose.

"Pepe Le Pew? Really?"

"Ya still got that stupid blonde streak in ya hair. Even if it's mostly gone, but whateva. I ain't here about the hot mess that is ya hair. Ya listen to me, pal, and ya listen good. Ya keep ya grubby paws to yaself when it comes to my gurl. Don't ya be getting any nasty ideas about her. She don't need ya whisperin' and lurkin' around like the snake ya are."

It takes everything not to laugh out loud. Isn't this precious? It's almost like the way Roman and Dean relish in being each other's guard dogs, content to always be chasing him, as long as they have each other. It's pathetic, really. She – Miss Bada Bing, Hottest Chick in the Ring – reduced to this; protector, second banana, content to just be languishing in the middle of the pack, just another pretty face amongst pretty faces.

Stroking his beard, he circles the golden haired beauty, like a jungle cat stalking prey.

"Aren't you precious?" Chuckling low, a finger reaching to stroke a lovingly sculpted cheekbone. "Protecting Little Red Riding Hood from the Big Bad Wolf, is that what you think you're doing, Carmella?"

"Get ya hands off me! Don't think I don't know what your game is, Rollins. Ya tryin' to get ya hooks in my gurl, but I ain't gonna let that happen. Stay away from her. Ya don't deserve someone like her. She's sweet and wonderful and kind. She got a heart of gold and you? Ya heart's as black as they come. Ya dirty rotten lyin' snake, and if you think of tryin' anything, I'll get Romeo to stop ya in ya tracks. Think twice about steppin' toward her. Cause Romeo is just chompin' at the bit tryin' to turn you inside out."

With a dramatic flip of her luscious golden locks, the Staten Island Princess sashayed out of the locker room, pert nose in the air.

* * *

The show is over and Seth finds Bayley backstage. She's standing outside the locker room that Roman and Dean share, and most men would've ran after Carmella's threat. An angry Roman Reigns can shake the foundations of even the hardest men. And while there is no J and J and Kane has gone off the deep end, the Iowan could careless about the Samoan coming after him.

The Staten Island Princess clearly forgot that he was the one who held Roman's leash for three years. Bray Wyatt may have tried to get inside the other man's head by using his daughter, but Seth was the one who _knew_ Roman. There wasn't anything inside Roman's arsenal that he wasn't prepared for.

"Let me guess..." A rueful chuckle as he approaches the brunette from behind. "Carmella is telling Roman all about how I'm trying to get my hooks into you." He's close enough, his lips hovering just above her ear, that he an see the shudder rolling through her toned body.

"What..." Head tilted to the side, brows burrowed down. "I don't understand..."

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, tugging on the flesh and he swallows thickly, wondering how such an innocent act can make his blood sing with pure heat. He shakes his head, wanting to be rid of the sinful images his mind so easily conjures up. She's underneath him, naked, doing _that_ – teeth sinking into her bottom lip, tugging on the flesh – while his face is buried against her most intimate place, breathing in her arousal, tasting the dewy skin as she bucks and writhes.

 **Fuck.**

"It's cute, really, how protective she is of you..." There goes his hand, reaching to push a lose strand of hair from her ponytail, behind her ear. "Like you can't fight your own battles, like you can't make your own decisions. Too bad I'm not afraid of Roman. If I was, I wouldn't be standing here, which would be a damn shame." When his voice turned from low to practically growling, he doesn't know, just like he doesn't know when he reached out to grab her waist, so she was secure against him, no space between them; her every inch pressed against his own.

She fit perfectly. If they were dancing, the crown of her head would have been tucked underneath his chin. But all he could focus on was the feel of her. She wasn't anything like Leighla; curves for days, soft and plump in the most perfect places or Zahara who was all hard edges and tattoos, a fantasy from his darkest places brought to life. She was toned, _obviously_ , she worked out but it wasn't about looking good it, it was about having the strength necessary to compete in the ring. But even underneath her toned muscles, she was still a woman. There was the weight of her breasts against his chest; soft and pert. Her waist, slim, but curvaceous; hinting at the Latina blood in her veins. Just like the obvious curve of her tight bottom.

"Seth..." A hot pant against his neck. **Fuck. Fuck. Fuck**. Just his name slipping from those lips, hot, but tinged with an innocence only she could be capable of, is enough for him to come undone.

"You're not some fragile little thing that needs Superman," A sardonic chuckle. "To protect you. You can handle yourself. If you didn't want me to be close to you, if you didn't want me," Bending so his lips are attached to the prominent edge of her jaw. "You wouldn't let me get within ten feet of you. You know what you want..." Kisses from the edge of her jaw down the elegant slope of her neck, teeth nipping at skin along the way. "I know what I want."

* * *

"Wha..." Maybe actual words, a word, escaped but to her it sounded like a barely there squeak, just some strangled noise escaping the vice that was her throat. "I... _You_ want... _Me_?" Disbelief coating every syllable because this – what he was implying – didn't make sense. How could he _want_ her?

"I want you..." Husky and low, pure heat culminating in the pit of her stomach, her thighs rubbing together. "And if there's one thing – _the only thing_ – you need to know about me, I _always_ get what I want."

" _Me_?" It's like a broken record, the disbelief, breaks through the heavy fog of lust.

"Don't sound so surprised. Don't act like I shouldn't be capable of wanting you. Most of all, don't you dare act like you shouldn't be wanted. I may be an arrogant asshole, but if I didn't want you, I wouldn't be standing here right now. What man wouldn't want you, Bayley?"

How she's standing she doesn't know. Her entire world is nothing but him. The only thing she can smell is leather and sandalwood, a tantalizing combination. The only thing she can feel is the _deliciously_ hard planes of his lean, cross-fit toned physique. The only thing she can hear is the own beating of her heart, wild and erratic. Her pulse is thrumming in her ears, gaining speed like a train careening down the tracks, unable to stop.

Swallowing thickly, she doesn't know what to do. She bites down on her lip, practically biting a hole through the flesh, her mind swirling with a decadence she didn't know was possible. He was close enough to touch, close enough that she felt as if she could melt into him, like they'd be one person if he were any closer. He was far from her child-like fantasies of princes on mighty steeds. If anything, he'd be the villain, dressed in black and determined to steal the princess away from her true love, ruining a perfect fairytale.

But... Taking a step back, to clear her head, she stares into those bottomless cocoa eyes and all she wants is to _know_ the feel of his lips, of his hands, of his body without the barrier of clothing between them. She bets his lips would feel _wonderful_ – their full shape perfect for kissing – moving in perfect time with hers, guiding her to open her mouth at just the right moment to slide his tongue inside. His hands would glide, effortlessly, over her skin; knowing exactly where she needs them at the exact time.

And his _body_... **_Oh_**... She's sure every inch of her skin is blushing. "Kiss me... Please."

She feels ridiculous, asking – more like begging – him to kiss her. She doubts Zahara ever begged or asked, and she's afraid he won't, that the moment – the lust and the heat – it's all ruined because she sounds like a twelve year old and what woman would be begging for a kiss from a man like him? Not any of the women he's been with. They knew what he was made for. They knew how to take from him the pleasure a man like him inspired. They didn't hesitate, they didn't beg... They could give him what he wanted and he could give them what they wanted. She couldn't give him what he wanted, she wasn't...

Everything disappears, suddenly, when there's the pressure of his lips on hers.

Their lips – liked they had kissed a dozen times before – moved in perfect sync. Her mouth acquiesced to his, letting his tongue inside to caress with her own. Her head spun and her body melted into the strength of his muscled physique. Her breathing was heavy, trying to get air back into her starved lungs after they pulled apart.

"Wow..." Breathless as her eyelashes flutter.

* * *

Seth swallowed thickly, taking in the sight of Bayley's softly rounded face. Her tan skin was flushed beautifully, this perfect pink that made her all the more pretty. Her lips were plumped and bruised, forming an attractive 'o' shape as she worked on regaining her breath. His chest couldn't help but swell with pride from the knowledge that it was _his_ lips that stole her breath.

He bent his head, pressing his forehead against hers. "Don't let Carmella tell you what to do. If you tell her anything, make sure it's what I told you; I'm not afraid of Roman. She may be your friend and I get you take that to heart, but that doesn't mean she runs your life, even if she may have the best of intentions."

"Mella wouldn't do anything..." He sighs heavily, pushing his fingers through his hair, teeth grinding. "She wouldn't do anything to hurt you," Through gritted teeth, neck in his vein pulsing. "Is that what you were going to say? Because guess what? She's already trying to by running her mouth and saying she'll sic Roman on me, like, he's some rabid dog, if I hurt you. She doesn't know me. And look, I'm not perfect and I've done things someone like you wouldn't approve of, but I'm not trying to do anything except figure out what I feel for you."

Bayley bites down on her lip, drawing the flesh between her teeth and gnawing. She can see the chair shots Seth delivered to an unsuspecting Roman and Dean. She can see the look of utter shock on Dean's face after Roman's limp, battered body falls forward. There's Hunter – the same man who treats her like one of his daughters – smirking and that gravel tone pointing out, "I always win," as he draws Seth into a one armed hugging, looking like a proud father for all the world as he admires the handiwork left in the ring; Dean and Roman, laid out.

Her stomach twists and she feels sick. There's bile coating her throat and her heart tightens, remembering how upset she had been by seeing Seth turn on the men who called him 'brother.' It brought her back to when Charlotte had done the same to her. Of course, they got past that and were friends again.

Seth would never be friends with Roman and Dean again, though.

"Don't look at me like that," Seth's voice – desperation coloring every syllable – brings her back. "Don't look at me like I'm a..." He doesn't finish because the door to Roman's locker room opens and the big man is stepping out, Carmella not far behind.

"And just what do you think you're doin'?" Seth rolls his eyes at the pretty blonde, but any retort is drowned by Bayley's soft voice coming through, "I don't know what you want from me, what you want me to say. Or what I'm supposed to do now after... what happened."

"I don't want anything from you. No, actually that's not true; I do want something. I want to know that any decision you make in regards to what happened between us is your decision and yours alone. That's all I want."

* * *

Seth is gone and Bayley can't help but follow his every move until he disappears around the corner. Her head is spinning, mind still absorbed in the feeling of his lips on hers. Still reeling from the fact that Seth Rollins had kissed her. Had told her he wanted her.

"All right, back it up..." Carmella starts, but Bayley cuts her off. "I appreciate you trying to look out for me, Mella, I really do. That's why you're my best friend; you always have my back, no matter what. Except... This... What's happening between me and Seth, I don't need you to get all protective. I need you to let me figure this out. I know you don't like him and I understand why, but he isn't trying to recruit me or anything. He..." The brunette can feel her cheeks heating up. "Likes..." Her tone is shaky and the awe is evident. " _Wants_ ," The breath she didn't know she was holding is released as she says, "Me."

"Be careful." There's Roman's familiar baritone and Bayley sighs heavily as she pouts. "I'm not JoJo, y'know. You don't have to protect me from the scary monsters under my bed."

"I know you ain't JoJo, Bay." The big man's tone is gruff, but there's a softness of affection underneath. "But Seth's not who I thought he was. If he tries anything, all bets are off."

"Bayley..." Carmella's hazel eyes were pleading. "He's not..."

"Stop, Carmella. Please, stop. I know you're just being a good friend, and I appreciate that, I really do... But I know what I'm doing. Well... Okay, I don't really know exactly what I'm doing, but to be fair you don't know Seth. I know he's not who you thought he was," Bayley's looking at Roman now, her head is bowed slightly and guilt is evident in her softly toned brown eyes. "But I don't know him, and I want to; know him, I mean. So just let me, okay?"

"Fine." Carmella relents, huffing. "I just..." She pulls the brunette into a hug. "Don't wanna see ya get hurt, that's all. Especially not by some fuck..." There's a jab to her stomach from Bayley's elbow and grunting, the blonde breaks the hug and holds up her hands in a gesture of peace. "A'ight, a'ight you ain't gotta tell me twice. I'll step awf, okay? Jeez. You don't gotta give me a Bayley to Belly or anything."

"I won't give you a Bayley to Belly as long as you let me get to know him and don't try to interfere."

Carmella bit her lip, nibbling softly, as she studied her best friend's familiar features. Inside Bayley's soft eyes she could see how serious she was about wanting to know Seth. She had never seen the brunette like this before. Her stomach tumbled a bit and there were butterflies. The look in Bayley's eyes, she knew that look, it was there when she would look at Roman.

She just hoped Seth treated Bayley the way Roman treated her.

"You really like him." Demure and so different from the harsh Staten Island accent Bayley was used to. It made the San Jose native blush as she rocked back on her heels, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I really do."

"I won't be steppin' on ya toes. I just want what's best for ya."

"I know you do, and I love that about you, that you want what's best for me; it's what makes you such a great best friend, but I can take care of myself, and... Oh," A wistful sigh. "I've just never felt like this before, Mella. I need to know where this will end up. I need to get to know him. Maybe then I'll finally stop thinking about him."

"Just remember, I will beat his skunk boy ass down if he does anything to hurt ya."

"I know you will..." And as Bayley loops her arm through Carmella's, they leave the arena that way, arm in arm with Roman not far behind, shaking his head as they start singing the theme from Laverne and Shirley at the top of their lungs.


	2. Chapter 2

_a/n: this is the second part of my seth/bayley fic. i have to shout out dashingincoverse again because she was kind enough to answer a very important question for me in regards to this fic. my inspiration for this part of the fic was a three part playlist that i reblogged on tumblr from the blog calumisart, it's called 'the before,' 'the during,' and 'the after.' you can find it on my blog under the tag playlist on page two. this part of the fic, like i said in the author's note of part one, this part is rated 'm' for a reason._

* * *

 **~*~i like you first, second and third~*~**

 **~*~part two of two~*~**

After leaving the arena, Seth doesn't expect to see Bayley again, but there she is, in line at the same gas station as him. Fate and destiny aren't things he believes in. He wouldn't have been christened 'The Architect' if he did. When he saw her backstage he didn't pay attention to what she was wearing. He was too busy concentrating on trying to get her to give him a chance after Carmella had barged into his locker room, and then they were kissing.

So from his spot near the energy bars, he takes in the familiar shape of her toned figure.

She isn't wearing anything that would draw attention to herself. Nothing meticulously selected the way that Leighla would. Nothing designed to reveal everything like Zahara. Just a light blue, fitted, shirt with sleeves rolled up to her elbows and jeans that end just above her ankles, revealing the white low top Chuck Taylors on her feet. Her hair is down, which is different, and there's no headband; just a San Jose Sharks baseball cap put on backwards.

She's bouncing, something he can't help but take note of, and he realizes the woman in front of her is trying to pay with quarters. He chuckles to himself, her impatience something he never would have expected from her. He imagined she'd be the most patient person, nothing like him who couldn't stand people who didn't move at the same brisk pace he did.

Swooping in, he's on the lady's right and says to the cashier, "How much?"

The kid who looks twelve, floppy hair falling into matte brown eyes, blinks at him before his mouth falls open and before he can do the fanboy freak out, Seth asks, "How much does she have left to pay?"

" _Whoa_..." Again with the blinking and a shake of his head, in disbelief. "Holy shit, you're Seth _freakin'_ Rollins! My friends are not gonna believe this! This is awesome! And it's, um..." He fumbles, doing the math by counting his fingers. "Twenty dollars left."

Seth reaches into his wallet and pulls out a crisp bill and slides it to the kid who promptly puts it inside the register. The old woman turns to him, offering him a warm smile and reaches into her purse, obviously ready to hand him the rest of her change. "Not necessary," He gives his most charming smile, holding up his hand. "Just doing..." He pauses, turning in Bayley's in direction and he winks. "My good deed for the day, that's all."

 _More like the year_ , he thinks, but there's the brunette's cheeks flushing a pretty pink from the wink, and it was worth it. He wonders as he waits off to the side, watching her swipe her card and tell the kid which pump is hers, if the rest of her skin would flush that exact same color if he got her underneath him.

It's a beautiful image, coming to the forefront of his mind, her underneath him; ready and willing, at his mercy, toned frame bending to his every whim and instruction, from his mouth and his hands.

"That was nice," Soft and musical and there she is, right in front of him, and reality is so much better than his mind, even if she's fully clothed. The light blue fitted shirt isn't buttoned all the way and the outline of a lace bra, white, is revealed by the thin material. He can't stop from wetting his lips.

"You looked like you were about jump out of your skin," He laughs. "Figured I'd do you a favor."

"I'm not an impatient person, really, but Mella hates waiting in the car, so..."

"Of course she does." A scoff and a roll of his eyes, which earns a harsh slap – almost a chop, he notes – against his chest.

"Don't do _that_. If we're really going to do this, get to know each other, I mean and figure out what's going on between us, you can't make fun of my best friend. I know you don't like her and obviously she doesn't like you either, but can you just not say things like that? If you keep doing it, you'll be proving her right, that you're not worth getting to know."

Seth sighs as he absently rubs his beard. He should know saying anything negative about any of Bayley's friends wouldn't be doing himself any favors, but he's always been this way; blunt and not necessarily conscious of the feelings of others. _Not like her_ , a dark voice from the recesses of his mind comes through, but he pushes it down. He isn't going down that road. Not before they have a chance to even start.

He reaches out, taking her hand in his. His thumb smooths along the skin of her wrist, feeling her pulse, which is quickening, and his chest swells with pride. "That's a little fast," Smirk crossing the fullness of his lips as he leans in close, face barely a centimeter away from her own. "Wonder why?" Purposefully low, the heat of his breath warming her skin.

A shudder ripples through her frame and he can't help but wonder if her nipples are coming alive against the lace encasing her breasts. He already knows she's holding her breath. He wants to know if she's fighting to rub her thighs together. If her heart is beating as erratically as her pulse is thrumming.

"Seth..." A whimper falling softly off tremulous lips, and he's going to revel in his triumph when suddenly, there's Carmella's voice breaking through, "Chop, chop, Bay! We're burnin' daylight here! C'moooooooon!"

Seth groans, face falling forward and nose nuzzling the appealing curve of Bayley's neck. "Why am I supposed to like her again?"

Her giggle is like chiming bells. "I never said you were _supposed_ to like her. I just said don't say mean things about her, there's a difference, you know."

"Text me when you get down to Orlando."

"How come?"

"Just wanna know that you got there okay. Driving at night can be dangerous. Not everyone's as cautious as you are. Be sure to switch off..." There's her thumb pressing to his lips, cutting off his speech. Another giggle like chiming bells as she shyly murmurs, "You're worried about me. That's sweet."

"Don't go spreading that around, Martinez." Grumbling as eyes narrow into slits, which only makes her laugh.

"Spreading around what to who?" Innocent as ever but there's a glimmer in those deep eyes, making him question her sincerity and he remembers she's the one who posted that picture of Roman to twitter wearing one of her headbands with the bows.

"Don't think I forgot you posted that picture to twitter of Roman wearing one of your headbands."

"No one would believe me if I told them _you_ were worried about me, so what do you have to worry about? Also, that picture of Roman was adorable and JoJo was in it, too, so that doesn't count. He was being a Dad and it's not like the world doesn't know about JoJo." A roll of her eyes, but her features soften quickly and then she reaches for his hand, repeating his actions from earlier, rubbing her thumb along the top of his hand. "I'll text you after I put a fresh bowl of water down for Flex."

He hopes she'll lean forward, bringing their lips together, but instead of feeling her lips on his, they're on his cheek, and then she's gone.

* * *

 _just gave flex his fresh water. so i made it home, just fine. hope you made it to the next stop okay. schweet dreams – b_

The message pops up, his phone jingling to alert him, and as he stretches his long limbs, his mind wanders far from the tame text she sent him. He knows she isn't Leighla or Zahara, but he wants to see how far he can push her. He wants to know what her limits are and he wants to push her past them. He wants to be the first who's tested her boundaries. The first who's brought her to her knees from pleasure.

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, knowing he's taking a huge risk. She might not be into this at all, and then everything will be over before it started. Briefly there's a curl of dread at the base of his spine, but he pushes the feeling away. His fingers type quickly and he waits for her response.

 _glad to know you made it home safe. drove straight through and got settled. i have to know, bayley, what are you wearing right now? - s_

Bayley's eyes go wide at the last portion of Seth's text. She blinks a few times, thinking, she must be mistaken about him saying he had to know what she was wearing right now. Except she wasn't mistaken. There were the words staring right at her; **i have to know, bayley, what are you wearing right now**? She felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest. At the same time, she felt her stomach drop all the way to the soles of her feet, as she glanced down at herself.

She wasn't wearing anything special, just some grey sleep joggers and a plain white v-neck and there were a pair of the 'Brie Mode' tube socks on her feet. Yeah, this is sexy and totally what a guy wants to hear about, she thought with disdain, her nose wrinkling. She felt her cheeks heat up as she swallowed thickly, her mind racing with what to text.

 _HELP 911_ she ended up texting Carmella, needing her best friend's advice.

 _what's goin' on? - c_

 _seth just texted me asking what i'm wearing right now... well, not asking exactly, he um... he said he had to know what i was wearing. i'm wearing a v-neck and sleep joggers, i can't tell him that! what do i do? - b_

 _bay...you don't gotta put on some act and tell him you're wearin' some push up bra and a thong. if he really is a guy that's worth getting to know and not the skeeze, i think he is, you can tell him the truth. sides if he wanted that, a girl who sleeps like she's doin' a damn playboy shoot, he'd still be shackin' up with zucchini or zatara, whatever the fuck that wannabe's name was. - c_

 _are you still up? did you fall asleep? - s_

Bayley swallowed thickly as Seth's message came across her phone's screen. Deep down, she knew Carmella was right. If Seth wanted her the way he said he did, he wouldn't want her to be anything except who she was. _But_... There was that annoying little voice in her head. Sighing, she bit down on her lip, and knew she couldn't lie and say she was wearing some sexy nightgown thing that she'd never wear. He'd be able to see through it, anyway. She didn't even know what those sexy nightgown things were even called, so how could she describe one? Taking in a shallow breath, her fingers flew across the keyboard.

 _nothing special. just some sleep joggers and a v-neck. - b_

She didn't know if she'd be able to breathe until he replied. After the women he'd been with, he probably thought – judging from her response – that she was nothing but a little girl. No one else on the roster or down at NXT would have responded that way. They would have said something lacy with cutouts and complicated ties. Some of them, she was sure, would have said nothing and sent him the winky face emoji.

She finally released the breath, silently thankful because her lungs were starting to burn a little, when her phone jingled a few moments later.

 _how low is the v-neck? - s_

That wasn't the response she expected to receive, if she received one at all. Suddenly, there was a pleasant warmth humming in her veins. Her cheeks flushed, she'd never done anything like this before, it was new and exciting. Briefly, she twisted the flesh of her bottom lip between her teeth and then her fingers flew across her keyboard.

 _a lady never tells ;) you'll have to tell me what you're wearing first. - b_

After sending the text, Bayley couldn't stop imagining what he _was_ wearing and what he looked like in his hotel room. Was he laying down like she was? His long, muscular legs stretched in front of him, arm behind his head, maybe? Was it bend at a certain angle, almost as if he was flexing, showing off the nice curve of his biceps? Did he leave his hair down? Maybe he put it up in a bun? Did he sleep... Her heart quickened in her chest from the thought of him sleeping naked. She knew some guys did that, but did he?

On instinct warmth bloomed in the pit of her stomach and she could feel her thighs start rubbing together. Her eyes fluttered, brain still stuck on the delicious thought of him being naked. She couldn't actually see him, of course, but behind the lids of her eyes, he was there. Her breathing was suddenly shallow, her breasts rising and falling with each shaky breath, and she swallowed thickly; throat and mouth suddenly dry.

It was so easy to imagine him, stretched out on the lush sheets of the bed in his hotel room. Dark hair pulled into a bun. The miles of his deeply tanned skin on display, each muscle perfectly honed and crafted. He wasn't big the way Roman was or bulky like Dean, but his physique was not any less impressive. She was biting her lip so hard, the light dusting of hair across his ripped pectorals, coming to the forefront which lead a trail that went down the hard ridges of his six pack, leading to...

The jingle of her phone, brought her back, and when she looked down, the warmth in the pit of her stomach turned to pure heat.

 _nothing. now you have to tell me how low the v-neck is. or if you don't want to, tell me what you're thinking right now. tell me if you've ever done this before. tell me how far i can push you, so i can push you further. i want to be the only one who's ever made you do anything close to this.- s_

Her fingers aren't flying across the keyboard, they're trembling and she's stumbling, erasing and correcting mistakes while her heart is in her throat as she sends him her response.

 _i've never come close to doing anything like this before. i can't really think right now, so i couldn't tell you what i'm thinking, even if i wanted. you don't have to want to be the only one who's ever made me do anything like this, because you are. i don't know what to do, what i'm supposed to say, what you want to hear, but i can't breathe. i've never been so warm, it's like i'm burning from the inside out. is that what this feels like for you, too? - b_

 _i plan on making you feel things you've never felt, and just because i'm not burning from the inside out right now, doesn't mean you won't be able to make me feel that way. never doubt that i want you. remember what i said, what man wouldn't want you? i meant it. sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite ;) - s_

* * *

Bayley almost can't believe he's effectively ended their conversation. At the same time, she re-reads his words over and over again; **never doubt that i want you** , it makes her blush and her heart trips in her chest, skipping several beats. Her hand trembles as she shuts off her phone and on a shaky exhale she reaches into the bedside table on her right side. Inside is a black box she's never opened. Carmella insisted she have one, despite the desperate pleading on her part that she didn't want or need one. Her thighs rubbed together and she could feel the wetness growing at the apex, her mind going back to the image of Seth naked in his bed. Carmella had been aghast when she confessed that she'd never touched herself or used one, saying there wasn't ever anyone who seemed worth it.

At least there hadn't been until now... until Seth.

The batteries stared at her and it was now or never.

The ache between her legs, that had been growing steadily since Seth asked her what she was wearing, was bordering on painful. She'd _never_ felt like this before. With a steady hum, the vibrator came to life and she let out a startled squeal, fumbling with the toy and god, if he was here right now and saw her, he would doubt his wanting of her, for sure. She couldn't do this. She wasn't made for things like this. She was – despite not being a virgin in the truest sense of the word – virginal and it would be painfully obvious when they were alone. His last girlfriend sent him nudes, and she can barely touch a vibrator without freaking out.

How could he possibly want her?

Reaching for the vibrator, Bayley feels the vibrations go up and down her arm, as she holds it in her hand. Her heart beats wildly, remembering how she felt the tingling sensation when they were backstage, how he made those goosebumps appear along her skin just from talking. There was that raspy voice in her ear and the heat of his breath against the curve of her neck. Her eyes flutter and her breath quickens, and it's instinctual, laying down and abandoning the vibrator for long enough to pull down her joggers.

"Ohhhhhhh..." It's all experimental, she's definitely never done anything like this before. It won't be like touching him and instantly her hips buck, but as she runs a tentative finger down the length, she lets her mind drift; imagining the feel of him in her hand.

"Seth..." A desperate plea and it's s _o real_ , his handsome face coming to her mind's eye, smirk crossing those full lips; cocoa eyes twinkling and there's that voice and the heat of his breath, mint from his toothpaste lingering.

 _'squeeze your breasts, tweak your nipples, don't be afraid. i want to see you touch yourself the way i would touch you. touch every inch of skin except where you need me most. if you're a good girl and do what i say, i might give you what you want.'_

The invisible commands of her own imagination spur her on further than she's ever been. The vibrator's left behind, falling to the floor with a hollow thud, its buzzing nothing compared to the cacophony she hears in her own head, the blood pounding in her ears. Her hands cup her own breasts, testing their weight and fingers barely touch her nipples and there's his voice again... _i told you not to be afraid didn't i? no one else is here to see what a pretty picture you make, on display like this. it's just me who can see you, so do what i said; touch yourself, squeeze your breasts, tweak your nipples. only good girls get what they want._

Good girl over and over in that low raspy command is all she hears. She's emboldened by those two simple words and god help her, but she's wetter the louder they become in her own head. She can hear the sound of her wetness as her thighs rub together and she practically leaps from the bed the second her fingers pull at her nipples. Between her thumb and forefinger she pulls at the oversensitive buds and then she cups her breasts again, squeezing the pert mounds.

One hand stays on her left breast, alternating between squeezing and tugging at the nipple, the other hand slides down the space between her breasts, stopping just above the small triangle of hair between her legs. She doesn't know why her hand is shaking, she knows what's there, but she's never...

 _spread those beautiful legs, let me see what we both already know is there. i want to see just how wet you are, bayley._

Her legs spread, thighs falling open and there it is again, _good girl_ , a nothing less than satisfied growl and the imaginary sound breaks the invisible barrier that's holding her back and she touches her folds, fingers feeling her own arousal for the first time.

His name is on her lips when she falls apart, harder and faster, than ever before.

 _that's my good girl,_ those four words lulling her into a heady slumber as she curls around a pillow, not bothering to cover herself with her bedspread.

* * *

NXT is going overseas for the first time and a few dates – in Dublin – correspond with WWE's European tour. Bayley can hardly contain her excitement. She'd never been to Europe before this. She felt a little bummed that they wouldn't be going to Amsterdam as she'd love to see all the sights that Hazel Grace and Augusts saw as _The Fault In Our Stars_ was one of her favorite books, but seeing London and Ireland would still be schweet.

"This your first trip overseas?" Low and raspy but warm against her ear, and she almost jumped out of her skin.

"Don't do that!" She screeched trying to catch her breath as she whirled around. Any ire she felt melted almost instantly. As always, Seth looked too good to be true; meticulously put together, even though he was only wearing jeans and a Day to Remember T-shirt underneath a sharp blazer. His hair was hidden under a black beanie and he was wearing his square framed black glasses, but those deep cocoa eyes were still on full display, making her heart flutter.

It was unfair, seriously unfair.

"Couldn't resist." There's that charming grin, blooming smoothly across full lips and her stomach feels like its doing back flips. His strong arms are around her waist, pulling her into that wonderfully hard body, and it's difficult not to whimper as she's able to feel the muscles under the thin material of the t-shirt. "Forgive me?" and there go the lashes, batting furtively, and they're so long and perfect, it's enough to make her jealous.

Just looking at him almost made her melt, but now she's wrapped in his arms and she doesn't know how she's not just a puddle on the floor.

"Like anyone's _ever_ actually mad at you. All you have to do is bat those pretty boy lashes and it's over." Playing at being affronted, but she's really not. Twisting so they're face to face, she gives him a warm smile and it's his turn to feel his heart flutter. "It is my first time in Europe. I can't wait to take, like, _a bajillion_ pictures and send them to everyone back in San Jose. What's your favorite place to visit? I know you've been overseas a lot."

Seth chuckles at her excitement and there goes his stomach, doing another flip. No one would ever confuse Bayley for a model, not like they would with the Bellas or Charlotte, but her soft heart shaped face with that toothy grin and those glittering brown eyes, she's her own kind of pretty. The kind that sneaks up on you and then before you even realize, you're in too deep, and if anyone would know it would be him. He was basically sinking in quicksand. Except he didn't want to be rescued.

He thought about her question, he had made several trips to Europe and he knew his favorite place, which regrettably was not a stop on this tour. "Paris," He answered, remembering seeing the Eiffel Tower and taking the photo in front of it, Money In The Bank briefcase held high. "It's beautiful." He reaches out, stroking her cheek. "We'll have to go sometime. You'd love it."

Her cheeks flush that stunning pink, blending perfectly with the brown tone of her skin and as she looks down, he tilts her chin back up. "Don't look away from me. We do have to go to Paris. Maybe Japan. Nepal was gorgeous. Maybe..." Charming as ever, thoughtfully stroking his beard. "Nepal first, it's summer there now, and that means I'd get to see you in a bathing suit." Low and throaty, right against the curve of her neck, nose nuzzling the skin as he breathes her in. "I'd like that."

"Really?" Breathy and hazy and he smirks. "Don't sound surprise," He teases, even though she doesn't sound the least. "Why wouldn't I want to see you in a bathing suit? Your body is amazing." He takes a chance, sliding a hand up her hip and with his palm resting just under her armpit, he lets his fingers spread and he gives her supple breast a squeeze.

The heady moan that leaves her lips on a gasp is enough to make his length come alive against his thigh. He wants to hear it again and again and again. It's beautiful.

"Seth..." His name on a shaky exhale is even better. Like music.

"Don't make any plans tonight." Demanding and punctuated by a firm squeeze of her breast and then a quick tap to her ass. She's practically trembling in his arms, it's wonderful, how her knees are knocked together and she's struggling to hold herself up. "What are you not going to do?" He questions, bending to bite at the skin of her neck and then he soothes his tongue over the spot.

"Make any plans?" She questions and then there's another tap to her ass, this one a little more forceful, almost like a slap and a moan of pure lust escapes. He makes a note to file that away for later tonight, hopefully. "Are you asking me if you're not going to make any plans? Or are you telling me you're not going to make any plans?"

"I'm not going to make any plans." Barely a whisper off tremulous lips.

"Good girl." The words drip from Seth's lips without any thought and then she's shaking in his hold and he can see the goosebumps on her skin. He smirks, he definitely won't be forgetting that reaction.

* * *

The smooth cotton of the dress under her trembling palms feels foreign. Like she's never felt anything so soft and lush before. Honestly, Bayley doesn't even know why she packed a dress. She wasn't doing any fancy appearances like Finn or Seth or anything close to what The Bellas and the other Total Divas do. But before she left, she took it off the hanger and carefully folded it into her suitcase. Almost like subconsciously she knew she had to pack it.

Needless to say she was glad she did. It was a beautiful magenta color with a thin mauve belt around the waist, accented with – of course – a bow. Its skirt was pleated, swishing with her every move, the lush fabric feeling wonderful against the bare skin of her thighs. It wasn't anything outrageous or trendy or tight with a plunging neckline or barely there hem, but she hoped he'd like it nonetheless. She didn't know what she'd do if he didn't.

Her hair was done in loose curls, expertly tied off in a low ponytail at the side by Carmella's skillful hands. She owed her best friend big time. Her makeup was flawless as well.

She didn't know what to expect when she heard the knock at her hotel room's door and _ohhhhhh_ , was all she could think, her knees buckling underneath at the sight of him. The fitted black shirt tucked into perfectly tailored slate grey slacks revealed every inch of his perfectly lean but muscled physique. Again, this was unfair, seriously unfair. His hair was pulled into a neat bun on top of his head and he was wearing his glasses, which she liked and there went her heart fluttering as his charming grin came to bloom across his lips.

"Hi." She didn't know she said anything until his raspy voice washed over her. "Hi." He repeated.

The nervous energy that came naturally with a first date crackled in the air. But then he was bending forward and kissing her hand and she burst into giggles, and everything melted away. She didn't know what to expect, didn't know what 'The Architect' could have up his sleeve, but when she noticed the sleeves of the fitted black shirt were rolled to his elbows, revealing the thick, perfectly formed muscles of his forearms, she knew she wanted to see more. A shiver rolled through her spine at the delicious thought and when she heard his throaty chuckle she knew she was blushing.

* * *

 _We should stop_ , Seth thinks, for the first time not consumed with pushing Bayley further and crashing through her boundaries, which almost makes him stop. They're on the steps of the hotel. Any second, he'll reach for her leg and wrap it around her waist and then someone, inevitably, will recognize them and they'll be called into Hunter and Stephanie's office because some fan posted the picture of them dry humping to instagram, and as Champions they have to be careful.

But this dress... It isn't anything insane, to be honest. If anything it's hopelessly tame.

He's seen tighter dresses. He's seen more cleavage baring dresses. He's seen shorter dresses and so on and so on. But as good as this dress makes Bayley look and it does – the cotton clinging to the wonderful curve of her tight ass, how the supple swells of her breasts stand out, the stretch of her thighs hidden by the pleats but the seams of toned legs are completely visible – it's not the dress, itself that had him attacking her lips, drawing her into a searing kiss before she can even blink. No, it's her. This whole night it's been her that's had an unbearable heat searing inside his veins. It's been her that made his mouth water when she tugged at his arm, dragging him behind her as they crossed the street and he'd been treated to a pleat lifting slightly higher and underneath that magenta cotton is... _lace_.

He wants to see that lace for himself. Wants to peel that lace from those legs, dragging those panties down her legs as slow as he can so she's writhing underneath him, begging and in his own head he hears it, the pant of his voice, _be a good girl, use your words. tell me what you want._

 _Fuck._

Her body is perfectly molded against his and when they finally pull back because air is a necessity and all that, he couldn't catch his breath even if he wanted. Her ponytail is no longer perfect; the curls are spilling everywhere, around her shoulders, down her back. Her lips are bruised and full, and without having to ask anyone could see they've been thoroughly kissed. Her cheeks flush with that pretty pink and there go her breasts, heaving, as she struggles to regain her breath.

"Don't stop," Breathless against his lips. "Don't pull back. Take me upstairs. Take me to your room." A pleading whimper, going straight to his dick. "Please."

He couldn't deny her even if he wanted to.

* * *

Everything is literally in slow motion. Every move they make, nothing like they were outside the hotel. Seth wants to be the one to unzip the dress, but Bayley's already stepping out of the cotton, revealing a matching bra and panty set made of tantalizing lace. The magenta of the lace offsets the tan of her skin wonderfully.

If his heart wasn't pounding harshly in his chest he would've thought he forgot how to breathe.

He sucks in a heavy breath and the next thing he knows, she's pushing him onto the bed. He gives a fleeting smirk, letting her believe she'll be the one in charge. He nearly jumps from the heat radiating between her thighs, as she straddles him. He swallows, thickly, pushing curls behind her ear and she bends down, drawing him into a warm, wet kiss. Their tongues tangle lazily as her hands run down his chest and arms, exploring everything he has to offer, and he lets her because he knows if he flipped them over and she was underneath him, he'd lose what little control he had left.

"Bayley..." Her name ripped from his throat as her curious fingers – still exploring – flick at his nipples, sending a shiver rolling through his frame.

"Is that... Um..." There she goes sputtering like the first night they met. Her eyes are hooded and shy, hiding behind lengthy lashes, that flutter nervously. "Okay?" She finally finishes and he hears her suck in a breath, obviously intending to hold it until he answers her.

 _Tell me_ he thinks, the wheels in his always active mind spinning. Before they go any further he has to know. He's not the kind of guy who should be taking her virginity if she is a virgin. He can't give her the night she deserves if she is. He wouldn't be gentle, he wouldn't be sweet. He wouldn't be what she's dreamed of.

"Are you..." The word hangs heavy in the air, no need to actually say it. He watches her face, intently, how the realization of what he's asking flickering over those soft features.

"No," And a forceful shake of her head. "I'm not as..." An annoyed huff, which makes him chuckle, and then she's smacking him across his chest, making him groan. "I'm not as experienced as you're probably used to, but I've had sex before. I won't say I know what to do or that I'm confident, but you don't have to treat me like it's prom night, okay?"

That's good enough for him, but before they continue he feels like he should be honest with her, as well. She deserves that after doing the same for him.

"Carmella's not wrong about me, you know? I'm an arrogant, selfish asshole. I cheated on my fiancee with a ring rat, basically, and nearly ruined my career in the process. I don't give a damn about anyone except for myself. I don't deserve to even be in this room with you, but remember how I told you I'm selfish? Well, this – being here right now with you – is me being selfish. I can't walk away from this, and I damn sure as hell won't let you. Just don't expect anything from me. I can't give you more than this."

Part of him hates himself for being so brutally honest. He wants to retract everything, fearful she may slip off his lap and begin gathering her discarded dress and slip on her heels, but she doesn't. She stays, still straddling his waist, and then she bends and murmurs, "Give me what you can. I'm not asking for the world. If this is all you can give, I understand."

He wants to ask if she _really_ does understand, but then she's rolling her hips against his, and he takes that action as her answer.

They're now both fully naked and to be honest, neither knows exactly when that happened. Bayley isn't sure, as Seth's tongue slides against one of his nipples while his hand tweaks and pulls at the other, if she could tell anyone her name in this moment. Then she feels the hand slide away from her nipple, taking a smooth path down the middle of her body until it cups her and instinctively her hips buck, seeking something primal only he can bring out of her. He slips one finger inside of her and then he's glancing at her and those bottomless cocoa eyes are piercing her, pinning her to the bed by some invisible force and she can feel herself getting hotter and there go her thighs, rubbing together, desperate for friction... for his fingers, his mouth, everything.

"Seth..." A weak whimper as he spreads her legs and kisses her inner thigh.

He pushes his finger back inside her, easing it and out as he moves his mouth closer and closer. Spreading her wetness, he uses the same finger to seek out her clit, starting gently before covering her sex with his mouth as he kisses her slowly. She jerks her hips, uncoordinated and sloppy, but silently directing him to where she needs him most.

The assault of his mouth and fingers is unrelenting, her sex clamping down, as her body tries to jerk and twist away, but he refuses to let her. To keep her just where he wants her, he presses an arm against her waist. There's a gut-wrenching scream that escapes as one long lick from his tongue, sends her over the proverbial edge, and her body is limp as he crawls back up, one hand behind her head to draw her into a heady kiss, to let her taste herself and she moans into his mouth, making him impossibly hard.

"You're so pretty." Husked against the skin of her neck and a bashful giggle with a shy shake of her head. "Like this? No, I'm not."

"Fuck that." Forceful as he turns her head so they're eye to eye. "Don't turn away when I'm telling you how good you look. Especially like this. Are you looking in a mirror right now? Cause if you were and you could see what I see, you'd see how pretty you look; cheeks flushed, skin shining with sweat, those bruised lips of yours, the scratches from my beard across your breasts. So until you've seen yourself like this, don't tell me you're not pretty."

Any response dies in her throat as she's suddenly moaning in pleasure as he thrusts inside of her.

Her legs lock tight around his waist, driving him in deeper, and she whines because he's painfully still, not moving. "Seth..." Desperate and pleading, hips rolling instantly, and there's a hand briefly squeezing her neck and she's wetter, slicking his cock even more as he tells her, "Tell me what you want. Use your words..."

He sucks in a breath, desperate to move, her tightness consuming his cock and he doesn't know how he'll be able to hold off from pounding into her, but he can't get the imagery out of his brain from when they were kissing outside. Of what happened when, in his own head, he... And there's another squeeze of her neck and it spills from his lips, "Good girl."

"Move." Through gritted teeth, almost as if she's in pain, but the word is drowning in pleasure. "Please."

All the whimpers and whines coming from Bayley are like music to Seth's ears. They're in perfect sync as he pounds into her. A loud moan spills from her throat after a particularly harsh thrust combined with his hand grabbing her ass, and he files that away. Just like her response to the squeezing of her neck and then when he feels her walls spasm around him and then clamp, he knows just how to push her, how to give her what she's desperate for.

"Let go. Be a good girl and let go."

Those two words do the trick and as he slams into her one last time, she's gone, her body falling forward; the grunt he lets out lost amongst her howl.

They're sticking to each other and every instinct tells him to push her away. He can't let her get invested or think he can give her more, but there's her scent – flowers – amplified by the sweat cooling on her skin, and she just fits – here in his arms – and he shouldn't, but he draws her in tighter and lays a kiss against her damp hair.

Her breathing, against his neck, lulls him to sleep and he covers them in the sheets from the bed.

* * *

It's the last night of the tour and almost every night she's spent it in his room. They don't talk about it, how the tour has wound down and he'll be back on the road with the main roster and she'll be in Orlando. They do everything but talk about it, actually. They ran around Coronation street together, photo bombing Finn several times along the way. They've both wanted to try polar bearing, one of the many [surprising] late night confessions they've revealed and they're not going to jump in the Thames, but the pool is open [weird] and they jump in, not realizing they're holding hands the entire time.

And in between binge watching Supergirl and Jessica Jones and ordering everything from room service [even though they shouldn't], there's the sex.

Oh, the sex.

She's so willing and unafraid to go past invisible boundaries she didn't even know she had.

* * *

 _Seth spies the ice bucket by the mini bar. "That full?" A grunt against her tank top covered breast._

" _Yeah..." Bayley answers, tone ringing in wariness._

 _The biggest ice cube is in his mouth and she bites her lip as he lowers the cube to her covered breast, circling the hard nipple and wetting the material so it sticks to her skin, becoming almost transparent._

" _Fuck... Fuck... Fuck..." That's all his brain can manage as she takes his length into her mouth for the first time._

 _Her tongue laps eagerly at the slit, making him grunt as her hand works the rest, a firm fist moving up and down. He sighs heavily, biting down on his lip and then he's hissing her name, "Bayley..."_

" _Mmmm..." Is her only response as she pulls back only to run her tongue along the underside a second later._

" _You're so good... Fuck..." When she takes him in a little deeper, tongue swirling over the tip every time._

" _Are you sure..." There are scarves in his hands, the ones she's been wearing because they were in London and now it's Ireland and it's still cold, and there she is – naked – and splayed out on the bed, hands poised above her head, legs spread and holy fucking hell, she's beautiful._

" _Please..." Ripped from her throat, desperate and wanton, and he can see for himself – taking a glance between her legs – how bad she wants this._

" _You're dripping..." He husks against the skin of her neck as he secures the scarves in the slats of the headboard._

* * *

Seth didn't even know she was backstage for his match against Kane. He figured she would be boarding a plane with the rest of the NXT crew, as they needed to get back to Orlando for the show on Wednesday at Full Sail. He doesn't know his Glamour Kills shirt, the one with their logo – the pink pig with wings – is gone because she's wearing it. He doesn't know his Bears snap back is in her carry on because she wants just one more thing to remember their time on this tour together to go home with her. She shouldn't be sentimental like that but she can't help it.

He doesn't know any of that as he lifts Kane for the powerbomb into the table and then it's all happening so fast, his knee buckles and there's searing pain and he's about to collapse, but he won't let himself. He finishes the move and the match, dragging a dead leg with him for the cover.

As he leans on the ropes, managing to make it to the other side of the ring, he knows something's wrong.

He doesn't expect to see anyone in the trainer's room as the diagnosis – torn ACL and MCL, out six to nine months, you have to vacate the championship – washes over him, because who would come to see him? But the door creeks open and there's her soft face. She steps into the room, obviously, tentative and he arches a brow, immediately recognizing his shirt.

"That's mine." Petulant almost, like a child, and to be honest he feels like one. Everything he's worked so hard for, ripped away because his knee gave out, and after training so hard and keeping himself in the best shape possible; his body still failed and it's not fair.

"I know..." A bright flush against the apples of her cheeks. "I just... I wore it when we polar bear'd and I just... I know I'm not supposed to get all caught up and think this is something it's not, but I can't do that. I'm me and we've done things..." The bright flush disappearing, the pretty pink from their amorous encounters coming to the forefront. "You've made me do things I never thought I would. You're not who you think you are. If you were, I wouldn't be standing here and feeling the way I do. I'd never fall someone like the man you think you are. Deep down you're a good guy. You wouldn't have let me spend the night if you weren't. You wouldn't have given me your shirt, you wouldn't have kept asking me if I was okay when you would..." Barely above a whisper. "Tie me up."

He swallows thickly, not wanting to look into those brown eyes, because he knows what he'll see. He can't let her get caught up in this. He has nothing to offer. Not when he'll be going through surgery and then a grueling rehab. He's already more than miserable, laying here on this table, and she doesn't need a dark cloud hovering over her bright world.

But then she's right there, her slender fingers sliding through his broader ones, and there's flowers tickling his nose and fuck... He should've known, after that first night, when he couldn't get her out of his head that he was already fucked. But looking at her now, he's beyond fucked.

"I'm gonna be miserable. You'll hate me. You don't want to..." Her lips are on his before he can say anything else, insistent and hot, drawing out his tongue to tangle with her own.

"Don't..." Panting as she tries to regain her breath. "Tell me what I want. I can be happy enough," She's crawling onto the table, careful of his injured knee and draping herself over his chest. "For the both of us. I can help you through your rehab. You can start to train again at the Performance Center. I can help at Black and Brave. You won't have to worry about Kevin and Flex will finally have a buddy to play with!"

"You've got this all figured out, don't you?"

"Don't be a grumpy pants. You know everything I said is true. And if it gets too much, it's not like you don't have your own place back in Iowa or people to stay with Florida. Just because you're not friends with Roman and Dean any more, doesn't mean you don't have friends. Marek will totally help you. So will Chris Hero. There's Jimmy who will always be there for you. So yes, I do have this all figured out."

Seth chuckled and shook his head. He winced as he drew her closer, the action of moving to the left tweaking his knee somewhat and when she tensed, he smoothed a hand over her hair. "Relax. It's not like I can do more damage than already's been done. Just wanted you," A heavy sigh as he thinks about his reality going forward, without the championship that meant so much. "Closer."

Bayley sighs, busing her nose against the stern tendon of his neck. "I'm not going anywhere. And..." She pulls back, giving him a bright smile. "You'll be back better than ever."


End file.
